Capture The Flag
by Enochian Whisperer
Summary: The Allies and Axis are pitted against each other once again, but this time in a "friendly" game of Capture the Flag. Or a more extreme version, rather. Anything can happen. Will you spectate? Which team are you rooting for? Which team will emerge victorious? You won't know until you sit down and "watch".
1. Chapter 1

A firm hand smacked the stone ledge of a windowless sill. A hardened man with wheat-colored hair stared out the window, over the vastness of the treetops ahead of him. He was secure, surrounded by thick stone walls of his small fortress, his "safe zone", as it was called in this game. It was like a castle, but not entirely fortified. There were no doors, or locks, or moats, or guards. From the start, it was decided that he was the leader of his team. He was a natural leader, a choleric man with a brave heart, who had his head in the right place. He studied the tree line. They would be coming soon. He could feel it. He wasn't sure how soon they would come, but they would be coming to claim their prize.

"Mister Germany."

The blonde was snapped from his train of though, and he turned to see his good ally, Japan, sitting on his knees, on a cushion, serving tea. He had three cups. He poured tea for himself, for Germany, and for their guest. This guest was not a guest, exactly. A /captive/ was more accurate. He was the "prize" that the enemy would be coming to claim. Germany was always surprised at how calm Japan was, even in this situation. It was unnerving, even. Japan offered a cup to the young man seated beside him, then, turned his hand to Germany. Germany shook his head, lifting a self-pardoning hand.

"No, thanks, Japan."

Oh, but he had already poured the tea. Japan was a little disappointed by his declination, but he smiled a bit, nonetheless. He understood that Germany was tense. It was pretty obvious to him. A lot of things were obvious to Japan. The Asian nation kept his trusty katana crossed over his lap. He was the guard, Germany and Company had decided. He and Italy would be guards, because, well, everyone knew how useless Italy was in battle. Germany was sure that Japan would be capable of defending himself... But he was uneasy about Italy. He hoped that Japan could handle two troublesome men.

Boots clipped on the narrow stairs outside the room, and Germany looked up. He saw Austria enter the room, with a firm look on his face. Austria didn't want to participate in this game at all, Germany could read it on his face. But he hadn't given him a choice. He was going to play on his team whether he liked it or not.

"Well?" Austria demanded, "Are we ready?"

"Yeah," Germany answered him curtly. Austria alone was a handful, being so uncooperative, and childish in his own aristocratic ways...

Austria didn't like Germany's motives one bit. The fashion-sensitive man fixed his glasses on his face, tweaking them to his liking, but he stopped to think. He really loved these frames... It would be a shame if they got damaged during the game... Although he hated being seen without his glasses, he ultimately decided that he didn't need them in battle, and he removed them from his polished face. Austria removing his glasses meant that he was completely serious about this. No fooling around. As much as he hated Germany for forcibly recruiting him.

"Where is Hungary?"

"She's outside, still manning the door."

Ah Hungary. She was the best fighter out of all of them, and Germany felt much better about this, with Hungary on his side. Austria could attest to her strength and brute will. She was a force to be reckoned with, for sure. Even Japan was impressed by her skill. Germany looked over his team. He felt a little uneasy, but he knew that he had to keep his resolve with him, or he would be as useless as-

"Wait- where's Italy!?" Germany suddenly asked, looking around wildly.

—

England shivered beneath his cotton. It was cold on their side of the playing field. His hood was up over his head, to keep his ears warm. He stood on the stone balcony of his own fortress. China was beside him. The Chinaman had an unusually serious look on his face, eyes narrowed to fine points, lips slightly pursed against the wind, as if he was musing. England couldn't help feeling extremely awkward standing beside China. Their tensions had hardly eased up over the years– China still held a huge grudge against England over the Opium War, and not only that, but he took Hong Kong away from him–

England peered down, and spotted France, jousting thin air with a foil. No guns were allowed in this fight, that was one of the rules, he remembered. England hadn't practiced with his own sword in some time. He hoped that he hadn't gotten rusty. He continued watching France, keenly aware that they were allies in this situation, not enemies. And strangely, he felt perfectly fine with this. As much as he hated that Frog's guts.

It suddenly occurred to him that England's own team had yet to formulate any strategies for the game, so he naturally took it up himself -he, the Great British Empire- to lead.

"We need to-"

"I'm not taking orders from you, Opium-!" China reflexively snapped, glaring at his old rival. "You and your Western culture have done enough damage already, so keep your mouth shut, aru!"

Arthur forehead creased a vein.

"Oh really-? Well who are /you/ to say I can't give the orders, you todgy dog-eater?!"

"Aiyah!" The senior exclaimed angrily, "You did NOT just–"

A cry from within cut them off. China and England looked to the doorway. The cry was a piteous plea, and the coarse texture of the voice could only belong to one nation.

"Let me go, you Allied bastards! Fottuto bastardi, lasciatemi andare! CHIGII-!" The voice cracked, and a half-sob slipped from their flag, South Italy. His language was foul as he spoke in his native tongue. Unlike Canada, Romano was a more /unwilling/ prisoner. He had to be bound to a column inside the room. "Spagna! Spagna! Dove sei?! VIERNE A SALVARMIIIIII!"

* * *

*I'm not fluent in Italian, so I likely will not use foreign languages from now on.;

Translations:

-"Fottuto bastardi, lasciatemi andare!" = Fucking bastards, let me go!

-"Spagna! Spagna! Dove sei?! VIERNE A SALVARMIIIIII!" = Spain! Spain! Where are you?! COME AND SAVE MEEEEE!


	2. Chapter 2

Italy was trekking through the woods not far from his safe zone. It wasn't the smartest idea on his part to be wandering all alone, but he just wanted to be here. He didn't like fighting at all, yet he was drafted for this game. The only reason that he was chosen was because-

A branch snapped, and the Italian tensed up, looking around. A crow's wings flapped between the trees. He couldn't see where though, since not all of the leaves had fallen yet. He looked up and saw bare limbs scratching at a marble gray sky. It was very quiet here. It looked like it might rain. He really hoped that it wouldn't. It would only make this game more difficult and miserable. Even though he would be stationed indoors, sheltered from the rain. Italy took a careful step down from a small drop in the terrain. He should probably be heading back right about now, but he didn't want to leave this place just yet. It was the calm before the storm, and he wanted to enjoy it while it lasted. The white banner he had been carrying was dragging in the crispy leaves at his feet. He stood still for a moment, then he realized his flag was dragging on the ground. He picked it up and brushed the autumn seasoning from the fabric. Italy held up his flag a little bit and watched it quiver against the slight breeze. He smiled.

A hand darted out from behind him. In a flinch Italy had dropped his flag and was screaming for help. The hand was precise however, and muffled him. The man was caged in a vise-like grip. A cackle hissed near his ear.

"The little sheep is wandering too far from the flock~ You should be careful Italy, otherwise the Awesome Bad Wolf will get you!"

Italy pried the hand away.

"Prussia-!"

The Germanic didn't fight Italy's resistance, and slacked his own arms. Italy skittered back.

"Why did you have to go sneaking up on me that wasn't very nice you really scared me-!" The words just kept flowing in sentence fragments. Italy usually gabbed a lot when he was in compromising situations. It had proved to be a life-saving strategy before. Not that Prussia was out to kill him, no. Instead the albino man let him carry on with a mocking smile.

"Yeah, yeah, blah-blah-blah-" he swung up a hand to imitate a chatterbox, "The game is about to start, Italy, you need to go-"

Italy wiped away a few tears.

"-What are you wearing, Prussia?"

"Nn?" the taller man looked down. He was wearing a white thin mesh jersey that fit over his deep blue hoodie. There was a Red Cross in the center on his stomach. He glanced back to the Italian. "My uniform. I'm a medic."

"A medic-?" Italy asked warily.

"Yeah. There will be casualties, you know~"

Italy swallowed a knot.

"Really?" he stammered.

Prussia grinned, "You know it!"

Sometimes Prussia could be a bully, and he knew it. But his big awesome ego allowed him to overlook the wrongness of it all the time. He didn't usually pick on Italy too much (actually, he really liked him a lot), but Italy was just one of those people who seemed to be magnets for trouble. He had to ruffle the bird's feathers every now and then.

And speaking of birds, in swooped Gilbird. The yellow chick peeped on his shoulder and Prussia gave the bird an affectionate stroke.

"My awesome friend is helping me in this game! This badass-" he gesture to the bird, "-he's going to be my eye in the sky! He'll be looking out for you guys. If somebody gets hurt, he'll be the first to know about it~ And then I'll come and drag their sorry ass off the field~"

"Wow, so you guys are a tag-team, huh?" Italy perked up, impressed by the bird. "He's so cute~!"

"A HELL of an AWESOME tag-team~!" Prussia pumped his fists enthusiastically. Gilbird's wings fluttered to help him balance on his moving shoulder.

"Hey, Prussia, why don't you switch places with me, huh-?" Italy tried putting on his Italian charm to weasel his way out of this game. "I mean, you're a much better fighter than me, and I know a thing or two about treating injuries-"

"Ick!" Prussia exclaimed in disgust. "I can't- I'm illegitimate, Italy, they won't let me participate because I'm 'not a country'," the red-eyed man's face twisted mockingly before grumbling, "So not awesome..."

"Oh," Italy's spirit sank again.

"-Come on, you need to go- the game's going to start." Prussia took Italy by the shoulder and led him off.

Italy never picked up his flag.

—

"Where the hell have you two been?" England demanded when he turned from the balcony ledge to see America and Russia emerging from within their fortress.

"Uh, just... tying up loose ends," America scratched the back of his head, brows furrowing. England stared between the two of them. Russia was all smiles, just as usual. If he didn't know any better-

England realized that there was an absence. Romano had stopped crying. He hurried back inside, leaving the two of them with China. At the back of the room, Romano was slumped, unconscious. The other three men had followed behind and China's eyes widened.

"What happened to him, aru?"

England instantly put the blame on Russia.

"What did you do to him, Russia?!"

The giant seemed genuinely surprised by his accusation.

"What? Why me? Why would you think I did it-?" he spoke in his more "broken" accented English.

"Because- you-!" England actually found himself at a loss for words. The only reason he could conjure was because Russia, by nature, had always seemed like a suspicious character. England looked at America.

"-Whoa man, you think _I_ knocked him out?!" the bespectacled young nation stepped back. "It wasn't me, I swear!"

England sighed and rubbed his forehead. In any case, Romano wasn't going to be giving them many more headaches for now, so that was a small plus.

"Right, well, we still need to come up with a plan."

"I'm way ahead of you!" The American piped up, causing England to groan. Whatever this "plan" was, England was already convinced that it would be nothing but nonsense. France suddenly entered the room, from the stairwell.

"'ey, do we 'ave some sort of plan, or not?" he asked, seeming to have been in tune with their conversation the whole time. "Anything that isn't an idea of America's or England's is good enough for me."

"I have more strategy in my left PINKY than you do in a single _brain cell_, you unshaven Frog!" England snapped. France put a hand on his hip.

"If you 'ave strategy in a PINKY, then you can't possibly 'ave any battle intellect in that mushed soup you 'ave for a brain-"

"TELL THAT TO MY VICTORY STREAK, PRAT!" England unsheathed his sword and pointed it at France. The Frenchman unfurled his distinguished laugh and met his challenge with his own blade.

"OH, I'LL TELL IT TO ALL OF YOUR EX-COLONIES AND TERRITORIES, 'OW ABOUT _**THAT**_~?"

England charged at France with an enraged scream.

"ENOUGH!"

Faster than lightning, China took action. He slipped between the two men and disarmed them. England was thrown back, losing his balance and falling. His sword clattered on the stone floor not far away. France stumbled back and smacked a wall. Between his yellow locks, France saw an outraged Chinaman. He had forgotten that China was a martial artist. The move he had made wasn't even anything spectacular, and it was enough to throw them /both/ off. He wouldn't underestimate him again. Beyond China, he saw England on the ground with a shocked expression that matched his own. Then he realized that China was holding his weapon.

"If we can STOP FIGHTING LIKE LITTLE GIRLS-" China bit at both of them harshly, "-WE NEED TO THINK OF A PLAN, OTHERWISE THE OTHER TEAM WILL TEAR US APART LIKE THE PANSIES WE ARE."

America and Russia hung back. Normally these sorts of things didn't phase either of them too much (in fact, fights were a lot of fun to watch), but after China threw that one tantrum before, they were standing at attention.

England, with bruised pride, got up while rubbing his backside. France recollected himself too, ashamed. America decided to step back up to the plate.

"I got this, dude~" he tried to dismiss China, but China turned on him in an instant.

"NO."

"But you didn't even hear what I have to say!"

"We don't need to-"

"Fine!" America puffed his cheeks and folding his arms, he turned away, "I GUESS you DON'T want to know about the SECRET PASSAGEWAY Russia and I found-"

This hooked everyone's attention. The room was quiet, and this silence begged for an encore. America loved to entertain the masses above all else, and just like that he was the ringleader in this show.

Turning back, he grinned with a glint in his eye.

* * *

*I didn't want to overdo France's accent to the point where it got annoying, so I only picked out his lack of 'h' sounds to differentiate his voice from the others'.

*Also, I felt somewhat out of character for Prussia (and Italy), so I apologize for that.;

Reviews are appreciated~


	3. Chapter 3

Hungary was standing idly at the door outside. She dug her heel into the uneven cobblestones, keeping an eye out for trouble. She had volunteered to guard the door just in case any early birds decided to show. Hungary wasn't very nervous. Not yet anyway. She was a capable warrior, and she had proven herself in battle many times before. And having a solid wall against her back gave her relief. No one could sneak up on her like this. She had time to relax.

Hungary had her long chestnut hair tied and pinned back. She normally wouldn't be too bothered with her hair, but since it was long now, adversaries could easily grab it. She would have to kill a bitch if she had to cut her hair during a fight due to her own stupidity for letting it hang loose. Her green eyes shifted back and forth. Austria had left her side to confirm their preparation with Germany. Actually, along with being nervous, Hungary was excited to get in on the action. She loved the thrills -and terrors- of battle. They put her to the test, and she always felt powerful when butting heads. Maybe it was her pride, but when she emerged victorious, nothing felt greater. Especially earning bragging rights for being a /woman/.

Rustling nearby alerted Hungary and she posed with her weapon bared. She was quiet, focused on the source of the noise. She hesitated, before she called out in a demand, "Who goes there?!"

Out of the woods stumbled Prussia and Italy.

"Miss Hungary!" the Italian exclaimed, clearly happy to see her.

"Italy!" she returned, but gave little acknowledgement to Prussia. She didn't know what Italy was doing with Prussia, but she still had a soft spot for him. The two of them hugged. Italy purred a happy, "Ve~" and Hungary cuddled him. He was so cute, she thought. Of course, Hungary had known Italy since when he was small and she always though he was just the most adorable thing. She remembered how she used to dress him up like a doll (and from time to time she wondered if her actions had somehow "influenced" Italy to become how he was now).

Italy, on the other hand, carried a little boy's ideas. He was smitten at Hungary's beauty. His feelings towards her resembled those of a schoolboy crushing on his teacher. Not that this particularly bothered him, nor did he constantly linger on it.

Prussia cleared his throat and their hug fell apart. He was a bit deterred by this intimacy that they shared. Someone so awesome like himself didn't handle mushiness so well.

"Yeah, well no thanks needed," he told Hungary and waved her off. Hungary was a little peeved by his narcissism (a feeling far from new to her), but she did feel a little bad for ignoring her old partner.

"Thank you, Prussia."

Okay, Prussia had to admit he himself had a bit of a weak spot for Hungary himself. He cracked a humored grin and turned back to her with a thumbs up.

"You got it, little girl~!"

Hungary was going to get him back for that insult later, but for now she had to grin with him. She wasn't going to take offense and let him win a victory against her, however so small. Best friends? Enemies? Who knew? The ties they had were more knotted than anything. Prussia vanished among the trees again, and Hungary felt a spot of pity. She knew how badly Prussia wanted to participate in the game. If there was one thing Prussia loved, it was conquering. It was a shame he would miss this opportunity.

"Come on, Italy," she turned the young man to head inside. She had to keep her post. "I think Germany's about to lose his head over you again."

"Okay~" Italy did a small wave with his arms before trotting up the stairs, shouting "Germany!" Hungary turned back with a giggle. Even when she heard Germany yelling at him in the dark room above, she thought it was funny how he managed to stay so spirited in the face of battle. Which, now that she thought about it was a little odd. Maybe Italy just handled his anxiety better than she thought he did.

—

"Check it out, yo~!" America strutted ahead of his group (except China; someone had to guard Romano) as he led them through a small network of underground tunnels. "It doesn't go on for very far, BUT there are manholes to climb out of."

"How did you two find this place again?" England cut in.

"Simple~" Russia answered, "I pushed America against a wall and he fell through it~" Russia said this with no hints of remorse whatsoever. Why should he? Something good came out of venting pent-up aggression against America. These tunnels could be very handy against the opposing team.

"Yeah, I didn't think Russia could pack a punch, but boy was I wrong~" America laughed, though he rubbed a spot at his lower ribs, caused England's concern to grow.

"Why don't we just 'ide Romano here?" France suggested, "It will buy us a 'ell of a lot of time to nab Canada and get back 'ere."

"It's against the rules," Russia kindly pointed out, stopping in his tracks, and consequently stopping France in his tracks too. France warily stared up at the Russian. "The flag has to be 'hidden in plain sight'."

Russia said this was the strangest expression that it gave France the willies. Russia was sure scary when he meant to be. The Frenchmen didn't know why Russia was so keen on abiding by the rules. In war, you used any method necessary to win. Some people valued honor in battle, but others played scrappy. He was pretty sure that the majority would choose scrappiness over honor here. In any case, given France's list of past defeats, he had no problem with playing a little scrappy. He wanted to win this thing.

America snorted, "You mean like France camouflaging in his getup~?"

"What?!" The Frenchman dramatically gaped, "What is so wrong with my clothes?!"

"I would have thought you learnt that lesson by now," England joined in on the hazing, "War is a competition, not a fashion show."

France inspected himself.

"I don't see anything wrong with this!"

"A red pin-striped jacket with coat tails, a bejeweled cravat, and beige knickers. You might as well stick a bull's eye on your chest, /ami/."

France flinched, appalled that England dared to even speak a single word in French. England had -on many occasions- insulted the French language, saying it was a devil's tongue. France was appalled, but impressed.

"Tour's not over, dudes!" America reminded them, and they dropped their petty argument.


	4. Chapter 4

Italy was crying in the corner and Canada was the one comforting him. Germany's outbursts shouldn't had been as harmful as they were, but facing the facts, Italy was just a sensitive guy. Canada could understand Italy a bit there. He too wasn't the most aggressive nation. Even though living next door to America peeved him endlessly sometimes, he could at least be thankful that his brother wasn't prone to bouts of anger.

"He was just worried about you, Italy," Canada found himself repeating, out of not knowing anything better to say as he pat the older country's back. For a flag, Canada was handling his own situation pretty well. So he had plenty of room to show concern for others. He understood that this was only a game. Though the North American himself was anxious, because he knew just how bloody this battle could become. Canada had war experience, sure, but he hadn't engaged in as much conflicts as his neighbors. But when Germany wouldn't stop harassing Italy for his own stupidity, it was Canada who put his foot down and came to his defense.

"That's enough, Germany!" The Canadian had found himself shouting. Or as loud as that wispy voice could rise. Nevertheless, it surprised everyone in the room. Canada, their flag, their /prisoner/, had the audacity to stand up to the leader of the Axis. Canada was /not/ a complete pushover. He had his limits as well.

Austria, who hadn't been paying much attention to Germany's eruption, was the most surprised. When he looked at Canada, he saw a predominating visage of America. He had to rub his eyes, put on his glasses, and blink a few times to chase away the illusion. As Canada cooled himself down, that false image vanished. Austria had never really ever seen Canada get angry himself, but he was pretty sure that Canada didn't look very different apart from America when angry. The two of them were brothers for sure.

Germany sighed, looking out the window again. It was late afternoon. He saw strips of blinding white out to the west, where the sun was trying to tear through the pillowing of clouds before moving onward. It was cold, his skin told him with prickling goosebumps. Japan remained where he was seated, staying silent and watching. He knew it was wise to stay quiet and out of the way when Germany worked Italy over verbally (on rare occasion, physically). But he was impressed himself when Canada had spoken up. He was young and brave.

"Mister Canada," Japan rose, grabbing a length of rope, "I'm sorry, but I need to tie you."

Canada's attentive smile for Italy sagged.

"Eh? Are you sure it's really necessary, Japan~?" He asked with dismay, "I won't be going anywhere. I won't try to escape." Japan believed Canada's honesty.

"I'm sorry," he repeated with a bit of sadness in his smile, "But we need to take the precaution."

The Canadian sighed and meet Japan. He stayed still as the short man circled him carefully with the rope. He even helped Japan to hold it in place, even though it wasn't comfortable not being able to move his arms. Japan secured Canada's arms, then fastened his wrists together behind his back. It wasn't until Japan told him to sit comfortably that Canada began to have issues.

"Wait, my feet too?!" he squirmed, kicking when Japan went to tie him at the ankles.

"Yes," Japan blinked. Canada slipped a whimper.

"Come on- can't I at least be able to move my legs?"

Japan felt guilty for denying him even that much, but he tied him anyway. Humorously enough, Canada himself felt guilty for complaining. Compared to other situations he had been in before, his captors were treating him like a god.

"-Sorry," he muttered to Japan in embarrassment. The Oriental nation accepted his apology duly. He actually had a lot of respect for Canada.

Germany came around to check Japan's knot-tying skills. Yanking and tugging, Canada's voice piped response to the German's blunt movements. He thought Germany was being aggressive now because he had defended Italy earlier.

"-He's good," Germany concluded to Japan.

"So are we ready to go~?" Italy's chimed, clearly over his emotional meltdown.

"Do you remember your post, Italy?"

"Yep~! I'm staying here with Japan to guard Canada~!"

Germany sighed, rubbing his forehead. "Good." Then he looked to Austria, "And you're coming with me and Hungary."

Austria nodded.

Germany was beginning to grow more anxious. He would only have two nations fighting with him on the field. Three likely against four. Unless the Allies decided they also needed two guards. And knowing they were up against America was not a comforting thought at all. Damn that kid's inhuman strength.

—

"America, where the hell is your weapon?" England demanded to know as soon as he realized that the tall nation lacked one.

"What?"

America laughed aloud, "I'm not gonna ride into battle with a friggin' toothpick~!"

Oh yeah. England forgot about America's super strength. He never ceased to take others by surprise. He remember how America had warped one of his prized swords once when he was just playing around with it. By seeing if he could spend it like a spoon. England nearly had an aneurism that day. He still cringed about it now.

But going into battle bare-handed was a bold, if not stupid idea. The fact of the matter was, America had long forgotten how to wield a sword properly. He was clumsy -and dangerous- with a blade in his hands. He might accidentally stick one of his own teammates in the heat of the moment. Firearms were more his thing. But those were banned here. Plus, he loved to showed off his muscles every chance he got. But just in case, he had a concealed knife on his person. He was determined not to wuss out and actually use it though.

"I think we should 'ead back," France warned, "The game could start any minute-"

France stopped in his tracks.

"Where is Russia?"

—

"Ugh..."

Romano picked up his head, even though his body still felt dead. China, who had been inspecting his fingernails, looked up but said nothing. Romano spent a few minutes recollecting himself. Waking up from forced slumber was the most tiring thing. His eyelids fluttered lazily, and China found small amusement in watching the Italian fumbling like a toddler learning to walk, though hardly enough to procure a smile.

"How was your nap, aru?"

That question made Romano snap into more enlivened animation.

"Shut up."

Of course anger would help Romano to wake up. At the moment, he was more pissed off than anything else. These feelings of hatred fueled a fire in him and if they were going to help him to climb out of this helpless state, then he wasn't to going to hesitant and take them by the hand. China scoffed mildly.

"You are as foolish as ever."

Sometimes China had a tendency to let his old age get to his head. He didn't have a superiority complex quite like America's, but he felt justified in looking down upon others from time to time, since he had become "wiser with age". The Asian country scooted closer from where he was crouching to look at Romano. Romano saw an opportunity cropping up consequently.

Romano continued to fumble lazily. Luckily for him, England's knot work was poor. The binds around his wrists were gradually loosening. He just needed to bide his time and he held his tongue, hoping that China would get a little closer. He realized that his legs were still bound though. He wouldn't be getting very far with tied legs. One step at a time, he told himself.

Tears streamed from his eyes.

"Spain-" he sobbed suddenly, repelling the Chinaman. Romano wasn't really putting on an act so much as he was showing his true colors. He was a coward. He was terrified. He was so scared and angry, and he just wanted to go home and curl up comfortably in bed. It was cold out here. He just wanted to be able to sleep. "Fuck-," he cried piteously through clenched teeth. Now China was too far away from him. He should've lunged at him when he had the chance before.

China face soured in annoyance. What a noisy brat, he thought. The short man considered knocking Romano back out to keep him from carrying on and save him from his own humiliation. Romano continued to bawl for several minutes, until China finally reached his breaking point. He rubbed his temples in frustration, a headache setting in. He had enough.

"Aiyah, SHUT UP!" China grabbed for a pressure point on the Italian's neck, one that could be utilized in forcing an opponent into unconsciousness. Romano lashed back instantly.

China screamed.

Holding his captor in a headlock, Romano flexed his arm. China choked.

"You wanna let me go now, asshole?!" The enraged Italian snarled. China couldn't answer back. He was suffocating.

China had seen a lot of death. He stared death in the eye many times before. None of those past experiences were pleasant. Neither was this one. But Romano couldn't kill him, could he? Only things like anarchy, economic crisis, or conquering could cripple a nation. Was Romano actually /conquering/ him?

China didn't have room for other thoughts in his mind. His lungs were screaming for air. He clawed desperately at Romano's arms. Romano hissed painfully as China drew blood.

"Let him go~"

Romano knew he was in over his head when Russia made his presence known with that sweet voice he had. His blood spiked with adrenaline. That violet visage was visible, wafting around the tall, ominous nation like tongues of flame. Russia was angry. Romano held on for his life.

"Ru- ssia-" China barely forced out in a croak.

"BACK! I'LL KILL HIM!"

"But you're already doing that~"

Not giving Romano a chance, he wrenched China from Romano's grasp. Romano's own scream was cut off when a needle plunged into his neck. Romano himself sounded strangled, before he dropped where he was. Russia pulled the needle out. Sure, he had defended abiding by the rules before, but there was no rule against this.

Russia returned to China, with his smile repainted. The Chinese was terrified of the Russian himself, but he didn't mind the tall man touching him at all right now. Russia helped him to his feet, and he clung for support

"Are you okay, China-?"

China was trying to get his bearings back, but he nodded. His voice was raw at this point, and breathing was rough. But despite his own hardships, he found the strength to yank Russia down by the collar and gift him with a thank you kiss. He could bear depriving himself of air for a little bit longer. Footfalls approached rapidly, and America's voice called, "Hurry!"

China shoved Russia away roughly, huffing. A perplexed nation looked down at him in slight shock. It wasn't often that anyone could manage to surprise Russia. China considered this revenge for all of those times he himself had been terrorized by his overwhelming neighbor. China clenched his fists, anger boiling in his blood. Hot tears stung his own eyes. If his voice had not already been sore, his cry would have been much louder. The remaining Allies entered the room just in time to see China swipe an already unconscious Romano mercilessly in the face with his foot.

* * *

I have to apologize. isn't cooperating with me on mobile to format my story how I would like to. Bear with me for now, I will fix it in the future.

reviews are appreciated, thanks for reading.


End file.
